breath / a singular action we don’t know how / to escape / is another product of our hearts /  seeping with grief / we suffocate our lungs with / just as mother used to / clasp her coarse hands  over my weeping mouth. so i leave my lips / closed only my heart / running a bit faster / like the  mothers / searching for their children / in the streets of Itaewon / haunted / cries. we bring more  white flowers / and i cannot express / the lull of my heart / bring my hand to reach / for our grieving souls. instead / i wait / for the world to crack / under our stomping feet / when we see  each other / as breaths / of grief and joy. / alexithymia / the art of not being able to describe /  your feelings. / our mouths sag / eyes droop / under the bloodshot sky of Seoul / i take / a  breath / laughter fills the / air / and people gossip about the latest / Chanel jacket / i see / blood /  seeping / from the hearts / of those adorning their / maturity with chrysanthemums / and yet we  hunch over / our hearts / in a collective silence / that forces / our breathes / into / mechanic /  beats / of caricatures of ourselves.